32. Sean
The next day
Seated comfortably in my spacious office with a commanding view of the New York City skyline, my mind keeps drifting again and again. I gently shake off these distractions, reminding myself to focus on preparing for the upcoming board meeting.
It’s our quarterly review—and I’m bracing for my father to repackage the expired ultimatum. I’ve steeled myself for a confrontation and for what might turn into a heated showdown.
Over the past few days, I’ve been reviewing our earnings. The numbers from the Westerlyn properties show no dip in earnings or revenue. That’s good news, as changing owners or management generally leads to some kind of shakeup during the acquisition phase. We haven’t touched the out-of-state properties, which could account for the steady numbers, but the most important is the New York branch, and it’s in the green as well. Further proof that Jess’s leadership is solid and that the deal we made with her was a smart move. I hope once my father sees the figures in black and white, he and the board will realize the same thing.
Weeks ago, I would never have put the word “hope” in any kind of notation involving my father. I learned at a young age that hoping he will see things my way is useless and a waste of time. Maybe Jess’s silver-lining thinking has gotten to me more than I realize.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts.
“Come in!” I call, rotating my chair to face the door. Jasmine is busy prepping the board room, or else she would have announced the visitor.
Connor strolls in, wearing his typical air of “here comes trouble,” and I welcome the distraction from my spiraling thoughts.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” he asks. “Finally got the contract back from the place in New Orleans we were lookin’ at. Just need ya to sign off.”
I motion for him to come in and hold my hand out for the tablet as he approaches. He passes it to me and collapses on the seat across from me. “Is that the last big client you have on the hook for the rest of the month?” I ask, scrawling my signature as I talk.
“Yeah, for now. I’ve a couple of prospects, but nothin’ on the docket.”
“Okay, good. I don’t want you to pursue those prospects just yet.”
Connor raises his eyebrow. “And why’s that then?”
I hand the tablet back to him. “I’ve got some ideas I’m going to be presenting to the board on what our trajectory should be moving forward. And if everything goes according to plan, it’s going to cause a bit of a shakeup.”
“And by ‘a bit’, ya mean a massive one?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, well, ya can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk away. Ya have to give me a bit more.”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.” Working with Jess on the transition was eye-opening and has made me consider a lot of the practices we have as a company. Not that I wasn’t considering them before, but it’s made the necessary changes more apparent. Yes, it’s great to buy these places and gather them under the Blackwood banner. It’s our brand, it’s what we do. “There’s a significant amount of untapped potential in the properties we currently own and in the locations we tend to overlook during acquisitions.”
“Ah, right. And that’s why we’ve been goin’ all-in on Providence?”
“Yeah. We need to focus on the experience, at what guests take away from our properties when they leave. One of the reasons why I bought Westerlyn and what drew me to them was the familiarity, the comfort, and the homey aspect of the property. I believe we can find a way to blend these aspects to offer an experience that preserves the property’s welcoming charm while offering modern comforts and amenities.”
Connor sits silently for a minute, mulling over what I’ve said. After a few seconds of silence he says, “Jaysus, I never thought I’d hear ya say somethin’ like that.”
“What does that mean?”
Connor puts his hands up in surrender at my sharp tone. “Hey, I’m all for it. I think you’re bang on, and there’s a lot of untapped potential in the properties we could be examinin’. But sure, we both know yer dad won’t go for it.”
“He’s not going to have a choice.”
Regardless of what happens during the meeting, there are only two outcomes for me. Either I convince the board that it’s time for a change, or I don’t. And I have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to do if it’s the second option.
Connor must see the resolve on my face, because he sits up. “I’m ragin’ I can’t be there to see yer dad’s eyes drop out of his head.”
Connor leaves a minute later, and I gather my things to head to the conference room. It’s already set when I get there, and Jasmine pours me a coffee before she leaves. I’m early. But so is my father, who’s definitely more punctual than he normally would be. He’s calm and overbearing, a combination that is never a good sign. But for once, it doesn’t bother me and any frustration or rage that I would normally feel toward him is absent.
Well maybe not gone per se, but it’s definitely not taking center stage. He doesn’t even wait for me to sit down before he starts up.
“I hope you’re prepared, son. This is going to be a long meeting, and there are a lot of things we need to discuss that happened during the last couple of weeks.”
I let his words flow right over me, keeping my attention on the tablet in my hands with my figures and notes. “I agree. We do have a lot to discuss.”
There’s silence, and when I glance up, I can tell he’s confused but trying to mask it. He’s not used to me saying that he’s right, and my response clearly wasn’t what he was expecting. His eyebrows draw together as he studies me carefully. My expression is neutral to match my feelings. It’s gone on long enough, and despite how much he wants to get a reaction out of me, I have none left to give.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk, I never thought I would live to see the day where my son would finally agree with me,” he says. “But before the others arrive, we should discuss this cold shoulder you’ve been giving me as of late. No matter what our father-son relationship is, it shouldn’t affect our work.”
“That would imply that we have a father-son relationship. We don’t.”
For the first time in my life, I notice a genuine reaction from my father. Quite frankly, it looks like he’s been slapped in the face. He looks thoroughly insulted, and even huffs like a child when he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat.
“After all I’ve done for you? This is what I get?”
“What have you done for me?”
After everything that’s been going on, the years of fighting and frustration, I’m ready to be done with it. In order to move on, part of me needs to know what’s going on in his head, because I’ve never been able to get a clear picture of the labyrinthian insanity that is my father’s psyche.
He doesn’t answer me right away. At first, I think he’s stunned, or at the very least, not expecting me to demand examples. Then, after a few long seconds of silence, it dawns on me that he’s not stunned. He can’t find any examples, at least not one that doesn’t sound made up on the spot. I let him stew in silence, not breaking eye contact as I study him.
All I can hear is the ticking of the clock on the wall.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt the distance between us more than I do in this moment.
“I gave you your position in this company,” he suddenly says, back straight and hands folded on the table. His voice doesn’t quite have the gravitas that it usually does. “I have defended you to the board as much as I can. It was me who convinced them to keep you on, even when it was more than clear that your vision for Blackwood simply doesn’t align with ours.”
“I think you mean that my vision doesn’t align with yours,” I say calmly.
“No, I meant what I said.”
“I’ve never needed defending from you or anyone else. Not because I’ve mis-stepped, but because I stand by my statements and decisions.” He knows I’m a damn good manager, and I’m a damn good employee. I don’t need to say it out loud.
“I will never understand why you keep fighting me like this, son.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you hadn’t made it clear that you didn’t want one.”
Something shifts in his face, and for the first time in forever, I don’t see my boss staring across from me. I see my father.
“Is that what you think?” he asks.
“You haven’t shown me otherwise.”
I hear footsteps in the hall, and I glance at the door in time to notice Daniela walking in.
My father’s eyes are still on me. I can tell Daniela senses the tension, however, she doesn’t comment. All the board members are used to walking into tension when my father and I are sitting alone in a room together. It’s quite commonplace. Daniela takes a seat to my right.
One by one, the rest of the board members file in, and soon, all seats fill.
Before my father even has a chance to open his mouth, I start the meeting.
“Since we’re all here,” I say, getting to my feet and motioning toward the screen on the wall where my graphs are already loaded, “let’s start going over the numbers for this quarter.”
“Hold on there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” My father interrupts, audibly clearing his throat so that everyone is forced to look in his direction. “There’s still a major discussion that needs to be had.”
I’m spared from responding by Daniela, who lets out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, Douglas,” she says in a terse tone, “if you’re going to bring up that Westerlyn chain again, I’m walking out of here.”
You can hear a pin drop. Not only because of Daniela’s forcefulness, but because she called my father by his first name, which she typically doesn’t in an official setting.
Even my father looks taken aback.
“As long as I’m the head of the board of directors,” he huffs, “I have the say on what we do and do not talk about.”
“If that’s the way you want it, then fine, let’s address it,” I say as I meet his glare with a steady look of my own. “I thought my record would speak for itself, but apparently that’s not the case. Need I remind you, that before I took over as CEO, Blackwood profits were dipping? We’ve reported profits across the board consistently for the last five years and continue to grow under my supervision. We could go even further if I was allowed to make decisions on our future.”
“Those decisions fall to me, the head of the board of directors,” my father reminds me, his voice carrying a steely resolve.
“Then maybe we need a new head of the board,” Daniela says.
My father’s eyebrows fly up. He clenches his jaw as he leans on the table, fixing Daniela with a hard glare, then me. I’m surprised as he is but try not to show it. “This is my company, and as long as I sit in this seat, I will be making the decisions.”
“There’s something you’re forgetting. This isn’t a dictatorship, it’s a democracy,” I remind him. “You may have final say, but it’s up to the board as a whole to decide. So let them decide.”
“Sean, do you really want to do this, right now? Do you want to embarrass yourself?”
“Let’s do it right now.”
Regardless of the outcome, I know I won’t humiliate myself by speaking up. I’m going to liberate myself, because if I don’t have their support, what the hell am I still doing here?
“Fine,” my father says, standing up straight and gesturing to the silent people around us. “Let’s put it to a vote then.”
Daniela addresses the board, saying, “All those in favor of Douglas Blackwood stepping down as head of board of directors, please raise your hand.”
The smug look on my father’s face fades fairly quickly.
Daniela’s hand is the first to go up and, one by one, the others follow suit. Some look at me when they do, others stare at the table and avoid eye contact with my father altogether. His confidence is gone by the time the last hand goes up. Nearly every member of the board has voted against him. Only those closest to my father held back. It doesn’t matter. Majority rules.
“Well, that settles that then,” Daniela says.
My father doesn’t respond. His eyes sweep across the room several times before they meet mine. “You can’t do this to me,” he says. “I started this company. I own this company. You can’t just vote me out!” There’s anger in his voice, but there’s another emotion that I didn’t anticipate.
He’s scared.
My father, who’s always been the epitome of a stern, authoritative figure, is actually scared. Seeing that fear in his eyes does something to me. While it doesn’t excuse anything, I realize that the reason why he’s been fighting me so hard, is because he’s terrified. Of what, I don’t know. It could be a number of things. Uncertainty, change, or perhaps even his own vulnerability.
“Apparently the board can,” I say. “As you’ve said many times before, I’m not on the board.”
“…which raises the question,” Daniela interjects, looking at me, “of whether you could potentially contribute your expertise in the future.”
My father is breathing heavily, doing everything he can to keep his composure. “You can’t cast me aside!” he snaps, looking at Daniela and the rest of the board.
“Then back off,” I snap back. “Stop ignoring my advice. You know I have good ideas and you know I have what it takes to implement some positive changes around here. Changes that will be to everyone’s benefit. If you don’t want to be voted off the board, then let me do what I’ve been training to do my whole life.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I know when my father’s shoulders slump that he realizes he doesn’t have a choice. Composing himself, he takes a deep breath and reins in his emotions.
For once, he looks old, older than his sixty-seven years.
“If the board agrees to let my son Sean have a seat in my place,” he says, “then I will acquiesce.”
“We agree,” Daniela speaks up. “I think I speak for the others when I say allowing Mr. Sean Blackwood on the board as head would be in the best interest of Blackwood Inc. as a whole.”
My father doesn’t bat an eye this time.
He just stands there motionless, then gives a curt nod.
The room hushes momentarily as his nod signifies a rare agreement.
A few moments later, my father finally breaks the silence. “In the interest of the company, I agree. Let’s move forward with this decision.” He looks at me. “My son, Sean Peter Blackwood, now holds the position of head of the board of directors,” he announces, and sits back down.
He wouldn’t be my father if he didn’t know how to gracefully accept defeat.
It feels like a weight is lifted off my chest. I take a steady breath and cast my gaze across the table. Daniela smiles softly and gives a nod of acknowledgment. The others who voted in my favor are waiting expectantly, eyes on me.
I present my reports and updates on our properties, trying to act like it’s business as usual, even though it’s anything but.
In my report, I point out the numbers we can expect for the next quarters, a testament to the invaluable contributions of Ms. Summers, the current—and remaining—co-owner and Director of Hotel Operations at Westerlyn Hotels. In order to clear her name fully, I emphasize that these achievements wouldn’t have been possible without her expertise. I highlight our plans to acquire the adjacent skyrise, a development made possible through her connections (a juicy tidbit she dropped this morning, for which I plan to thank her thoroughly all night long). Furthermore, I take the opportunity to highlight the partnerships she has cultivated over the past years, resulting in a substantial financial gain that is poised for exponential growth in the coming months. I stress the importance of retaining dedicated team members like her who turn down offers not only from Richard Rutherford but from several major competitors, reflecting their commitment and loyalty to Blackwood’s cause.
“And for the foreseeable future, our bookings have soared to heights even I couldn’t have predicted.” I don’t hold back as I reveal the staggering numbers, making it clear that bookings have gone through the roof.
The room registers surprise, and a few subtle gasps and acknowledging murmurs fill the air.
Sometimes, numbers have the last word.
I close with the suggestion to allocate a significant portion of our resources to improvements for our existing properties rather than solely focusing on property acquisitions. The initial reaction is overwhelmingly positive, with everyone applauding—except my father. He just gives me a subtle nod, then gets up and leaves.
Countless ideas and thoughts continue to run through my mind, and I’m trying to keep them in check. There will be plenty of time to think about and implement the changes I want. I’m sure it’s not always going to be smooth sailing by any means, but it’s a step in the right direction.